Vespertine
by Pingpong
Summary: Abel is a vampire wanted for his ability by some very powerful people. When he sets out to find someone who can help, Fate throws him into the drama-filled life of Gwen, a talentless vampire who is caught up in her own troubles. OC/OC T FOR LANGUAGE
1. The City

**A/N**: **Ok, new story! I'm going to set a few ground rules:**

**First of all, for all that this is a Twilight fanfiction, there will be no canon characters in it. Ms Meyer created a wonderful universe with vast potential, but few people look outside of the canon characters. I mean, there's only so many times an original character can encounter the Cullens. So I set myself a personal challenge: play in the Twilight universe and do with with only original characters.**

**Second, I'm not going to be updating very often. I'm ADD and I have a job that prohibits me from writing while I work.**

**Third, I adore constructive criticism. If you think there's something wrong with the story, or you have ideas for the plot I'd love to hear them! I've got a vague idea of how this is going to go, but nothing is set in stone. Even the main characters' back stories and personalities are pretty fluid right now.**

**Onward!**

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Vespertine

_Chapter 1:_

_ The City_

Abel POV:

I really hate the city.

It's a loud and filthy place, belching sound and smog into the air at all hours. I could almost feel my sense of smell slowly getting worse, the sensitivity dulling as the smog and filth coated my throat and lungs. I glared up at the sky, where a soft drizzle came from - even the rain was dirty, giving the air an unpleasant oily taste. I much preferred the untouched wilderness often found in the north; the blessed lack of civilization allowed my mind to settle and think in the silence there. The clean rain made everything smell new and fresh. Just thinking about it made me sigh, and I couldn't help making a face as I tasted the air again. How could humans live like this?

Not that I have any choice to be here, of course; what had been a light tugging for weeks was now an insistent pull centered somewhere behind my eyes. I was getting closer to my target with each step I took, and with each step it got more insistent, more compelling. I couldn't turn and leave even if I wanted to. Even if I didn't need whoever I was walking toward.

A young child on a red bike sped past me, splashing through a puddle on the sidewalk, intent on getting home, and for a brief second I considered merely putting out my arm and ripping him off the idiotic mode of transportation. There was an alley not far and I could make it there in less than a second. I could stay there to enjoy my meal, and leave the broken body behind. I could easily get away with it.

In hindsight, it was probably a bad idea to come straight here without feeding first.

Unfortunately, my ability could be quite annoying and demanding when I unleashed it. When it found what I was seeking, I couldn't even hunt for the racket the damn thing was setting off in my head whenever I stopped. For three weeks I had been making my way south, through Saskatchewan and into Montana, following the vague feeling and for three weeks I had only dared to stop once.

I grimaced as I remembered the taste of the elk's blood. But I couldn't detour to kill a human, and so the foul stuff had to serve. I winced at the thought of what the pull could have turned into had I veered off course to hunt.

All this passed in a fraction of a second through my head, but with an almost silent sigh and a menacing frown, I let the child live. A small wave of filthy water rose from the shallow pool, slopping toward the hem of my beaten and slightly ragged jeans. Unthinking, I sidestepped away from the slow crest of muddy water, faster than the human eye could follow. Another frown - the city was where I truly had to hide. I always forgot that I couldn't do such things when people might be watching.

A quick scan of the surrounding streets revealed no one lingering near enough to catch me in the act of being inhuman and I sighed, resuming my interrupted walk, musing as I went. Big cities were always trouble - they usually had nonhuman residents, local covens that tended to get a bit upset when nomads such as myself hunted in their range without permission. The last thing I needed was to have a scrap with others of my kind. It was too important to get myself out of my current predicament first.

Although the thought of a good knock down, drag out certainly had it's own appeal now that I thought about it...

Suddenly the steady pulling in my head jerked sharply and I clenched my teeth together at the stab of pain. Whoever could help me was _very_ close, probably close enough to realize the urge to travel in my direction was unnatural. I was coming up on a street corner and decided I would wait there for my savior - I grimaced at the word - to come to me instead of wandering aimlessly through the streets.

I was about 10 yards from my planned stopping place when a girl came running around the corner slightly faster than a human could have, her perfectly formed face screwed up in a mixture of fury, terror and determination. She was looking over her shoulder as she skidded around the sharp turn, scowling, and my ability gave another sharp tug. I had stopped when she came into view and now I took an involuntary step forward at the sheer force of the pull, a red hot knife of pain jabbing me behind the eyes.

I growled, wanting to shout at my ability, ask it what the hell it thought it was doing yanking me from my beautiful Canadian range to this filthy city and this girl who obviously had some problems of her own to deal with. I wasn't here to help someone else solve their problems for Christ's sake. Of course I couldn't, and said girl was barreling down on me, still looking over her shoulder.

She looked forward again, scanning the street for any human witnesses I assumed, and caught sight of me. She gasped, red eyes widening as she skidded to a halt rather gracefully just a few feet in front of me, the wind of her running blowing her brown hair into her face. The heavy smell of lilacs hit me at the same time.

_Of course she's like me_, I thought sourly. _Just the icing on the cake for this whole damn situation. I bet who ever is chasing her is one of us, too._

So much for avoiding trouble from the local covens.

As if in answer to my bitter thoughts, three more bodies came loping around the corner not a second later. They half laughed, half growled as they spotted the girl in front of me and she stiffened, spinning away from me and hissing fiercely at them.

"Ah, Gwen," the leader, a medium sized man with black hair, said oily as they slowed to a stop not 20 feet from her, ignoring me for the time being. "Fancy meeting you here."

She tensed more and growled this time, shuffling her feet and moving closer to me slowly, her scuffed sneakers scraping loudly on the pavement. A brief surge of hate and protectiveness at his suggestive tone swamped me and overpowered my irritation with. It was easy to see she was scared of these three goons. She wasn't doing a very good job of hiding it.

The one to the leader's right shifted forward a step and looked me up and down, sizing me up through his lank blond hair. "Who's your friend, Gwennie?"

Gwen didn't answer, only hissing at him and moving again, this time not bothering to disguise the fact she was inching closer to me. Her fear was like a heavy cloud surrounding her, tickling my nose and I could tell they smelled it too. The one to the leader's right, who hadn't spoke yet, chuckled and moved closer, delighting in her slight whimper. Another surge of intense hate at these poor excuses for beings, and I bristled, stepping forward and whipping Gwen behind me without thinking.

"I'm glad you met me here like we planned, Gwen," I said over my shoulder as pleasantly as I could through the slow building red tide in my vision, quickly coming up with a plan. I couldn't take them all on at once, but if I could somehow get us out of this without a fight... She was important somehow, and so I had to keep her alive. Even if I didn't particularly enjoy dealing with her problems.

The other three didn't like the way I pretended to know the brunette, their stances shifting uneasily. Good, it seemed they were just bullies and didn't want to fight as much as they first let on. I felt rather than heard her relieved sigh as she caught onto my lie.

_That's right, _I thought bitterly. _I'm saving your sorry ass so you can save mine._

"Not that I didn't have some problems getting here," she said softly in her wind chime voice, glaring around me at her pursuers. With a small wave to the other men, the leader straightened from his crouch; he had obviously sized me up the same way his crony had and decided the girl wasn't worth the fight I might put up.

"Be careful, Gwennie," he purred, "your new friend can't babysit you all the time. Walker will have his due." Argh. I wanted to throttle the pervert.

With a sharp glace at Gwen, who was still poking her head around my right arm, he turned and left, gone in a flash and taking his followers with him. She blew out a heavy breath and the smell of lilacs again washed over me; a brief, painful memory of white flowers in the hot Texas sun gripped me before I realized my new charge was talking.

"Thank you," she said softly from behind me and I turned slowly to see her with her head down, brown hair hiding her face. Her tone was sad, remorseful. "I didn't mean to drag you into this."

I couldn't help the wry grin that came to my face, an automatic response. For a brief moment, I forgot I didn't like her. "Hey, no worries, eh? At least you didn't run me over. For a second I thought you might."

This brought a smile to her face, like it was intended to. She looked up at me, red eyes amused, and brushed her hair out of her face. "Yeah," she chuckled and I reeled again as another irrational surge of emotion briefly drowned me. I struggled for a moment to not gasp at the unexpected completely out of character feeling.

_The hell?_ Was I going crazy?

She brought her eyebrows together in a frown as she watched my face. "Something wrong?"

I shook my head, as much to clear it as to reassure her. "It's nothing." Grasping at anything to get off the subject until I could think on it more, I flashed a smile at her and stuck out my hand. "I'm Abel, by the way."

She grinned in response. "I'm Gwendolyn, but call me Gwen. I'd hate to have to kill my savior from the big bad Eldan coven because he used my hated name." She shook my hand, her small hand feeling frail in my own.

_Eldan coven? So that must have been who those goons were._

As if she read my mind - not a far off thought when it came to fellow vampires - she grimaced. "Those were the guys chasing after me. Their leader is a bit... miffed with me right now." She didn't seem to want to explain any further, so I let it drop. Glancing around, I realized we were still standing on the sidewalk in a ramshackle part of town completely out in the open if those three decided to show up with reinforcements.

"Walk with me?" She suddenly asked, once again seeming to read my mind. I looked at her dumbly for a moment, caught off balance by her ability to guess what I was thinking. I must've had quite a look on my face because she hurriedly added, "We can go to my place." She paused and thought about that for a second before ducking her head. If vampires could blush, I'm sure she would have. I chuckled without thinking; she was so amusing.

She took a deep breath. "I mean, I have a place around here where we could go. You know, get out of the rather murderous public eye for a bit. Walker's bound to have more than those idiots running around after me." She grimaced, her nose wrinkling and that made me smile again, the expression completely bypassing my brain and going straight to my face.

_I'm a grinning fool, that's for sure._

I grandly gestured to her. "Lead the way, madam! I shall follow wherever you wish."

A strange expression flitted across her face, one that couldn't interpret, before she smiled back and turned back the way I had come, looping her arm through mine with a laugh. "C'mon, o brave knight. Let's get going."

I tried not to make a displeased face as I let her pull me along. Suddenly I realized that the other pull - that of my ability - had completely stopped. I didn't remember when, but it had. I sighed inwardly. So Gwen really was the answer to my problem. But that didn't help any; how was this little girl, defenseless against three idiot vampires, going to help me with those hunting me? They were definitely more powerful than the local coven.

Christ, what had I gotten myself into?

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**A/N 2**: **Ok, how was that? Again, I'm not sure how often I'll update, or where exactly this is going, but I'd love some feedback! Next chapter will be Gwen's POV and we get some idea of who's chasing after Abel and making his seek help out.**


	2. Gwendolyn

**A/N: Ok, this kind of ran away with me. I'm pretty sure Gwen hangs around and writes herself when I'm sleepy, that's how out of control this chapter was. It's pretty much Chapter 1 from Gwen's POV, with a lot of her thoughts. She really things a lot, and goes off on some odd tangents sometimes, but I think she's very believable.** **Let me know what you think, eh? Next chapter we meet Gwen's maker and I'm debating on whether or not to give him a POV.  
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**Oh, and the word vespertine in the context of this story means 'blooming during the evening.'**

**Onward!  
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Vespertine

_Chapter 2:_

_ Gwendolyn  
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Gwen POV:

Lovely.

Just fucking lovely.

The one time I decide I can go out without Garet tailing me like a love sick puppy, I run into Orin and his little gang. Of course, since their range borders the one belonging to Garet and me, I was bound to run into them; I just didn't count on Walker recruiting them for his stupid little fight with Garet.

Great.

Just fucking great.

I had to run, of course. If they caught me, I'd be dead within the day. They'd have their own sort of fun with me first, of course. Then they'd hand me over to Walker, and Walker definitely wanted to kill me. He knew nothing else would hurt Garet, his coven-brother, more than killing me - the only vampire Garet had ever created.

You see, Garet and Walker had once been friends. Closer than brothers. They had the same Maker, about two hundred years ago. This Maker - Tobias - loved them both as sons he never had, the only two of our kind he had ever made and they loved him as much as any father. Their love was so strong for him that a promise from this long-dead man has kept my maker alive to this day.

Tobias made them promise to never harm the other. He had witnessed his own coven fall upon and destroy itself before he made Walker and Garet, and he never wanted either of his sons to suffer the same fate, watching their family destroy itself. They were both of Tobias' coven and so he made them swear on their love for him, as near-brothers, to never raise their hands against each other. They agreed, and so they are bound to never physically harm each other.

Of course, emotional damage is a different story.

At first, it wasn't a problem. They were - and still are - feral to an extent. They use humans as food, have no real ties to the community, and can and occasionally do pick up and move at a moment's notice. They didn't have anything to become attached to.

One day, Walker met his mate.

Marilyn was a beautiful woman when she was alive; she made a stunning vampire. She was not only beautiful, but smart and above all Talented. She had a way of seeing the flaws in you; maybe you were a little weak on the left side, or you a particular subject of conversation made you lose your temper easily.

Or maybe, you loved someone you shouldn't.

Garet has always been a naturally easygoing man. He just lets things wash over him and takes everything in stride. He wasn't the type of person to want something he knew he shouldn't - far from it. He was unnaturally giving for a vampire, incredibly humble and selfless. He had a way of letting his actions speak for him. When he was human, he was the type of person others went to for advice; when he spoke at town meetings people listened to every word he said.

And one day he fell in love.

She was a pretty girl, he says when I can get him to speak of it. Bright red hair and the cutest freckles on her cheeks. Bright green eyes, a small gap between her front teeth, and a way of looking at you when she was upset that made you want to get on your knees and beg for forgiveness; she had all of the boys who knew her begging her father for her hand. She lived in a small village in Ireland where her father raised sheep and she loved all of the animals with the fierce innocence of a child, even the ones her father slaughtered to feed the family.

She was also very human.

Marilyn was beautiful, but she was also a covetous person. She didn't like the way Walker and Garet were so much like brothers; her coven wasn't nearly so close and she was jealous of the way Garet was so much a part of Walker's life. So, she set her ability to find his weakness and just like that his little green eyed girl was marked for death. Her body was found in one of the outer pastures, seemingly torn apart by animals.

Garet knew better; he knew it was Marilyn and confronted her about it. It quickly turned into a fight and Garet did what anyone would have done. An eye for an eye. A love for a love. After that, Walker spurned his coven-brother, vowing to hurt Garet, promise to Tobias or not.

They parted ways, Walker heading for the Americas and Garet following his easy going wandering ways around the world. True to his nature, my maker let the past rest; he still loved the green eyed Irish girl with all his heart, but he was pragmatic enough to realize she was gone and to let her rest peacefully. Walker would do no such thing and over the years his hatred festered, his promise to get back at Garet never forgotten.

Garet met me in Aurora, Colorado in the summer of 1985 on the evening of my 16th birthday. I think he was finally beginning to feel the loneliness of his existence because instead of killing me like he would have any other meal, he let me live; just barely but enough to allow me to change. For 14 years we lingered in the Denver area, living like drifters and content with it that way. He was the big brother I never had, a big brother with two and a half centuries of knowledge and patience.

One night I messed up and killed someone important. Important enough that disguising the murder as an animal attack wasn't enough. We were forced to flee Colorado, drifting around the northern part of the United States before deciding to settle down.

Imagine Walker's delight when Garet turned up in Walker's chosen home with a young vampire in tow; one he was unnaturally attached to.

And so, 200 hundred years after this stupid chain of events started, here I was running from three idiots with the combined brain inventory of one cell.

Not that them being stupid made them any less dangerous. I wasn't able to take on one of them alone, so all three was out of the question. For only the third time in my existance as a vampire, I felt panic.

I couldn't escape them and I knew. Abruptly, an invisible hand reached into my chest and pulled me sharply forward. I couldn't help my stumble and gasp; what the hell was that?! As suddenly as it came, it was gone and I was once again running down blessedly empty streets with no more company than some goons hellbent on delivering me to my murderer. I approached an intersection, once again thanking whatever deity was listening for the run down section of town that had no people on them.

The same tug yanked me sharply to the right and I complied, skittering around the turn and upping my speed a notch. Maybe if I could get to Abigail, I could lose them. I was well aware one of the guys with Orin was a tracker, which is why they weren't too concerned with keeping up with me.

_They don't know about Abigail, though_, a part of my mind reminded me. _You don't want her in danger._

I winced at both the though and another insistant yank. I was suddenly aware of the easy panting of my followers - _much closer,_ I thought with renewed panic - and was almost jerked clean off my feet as the pull didn't go away this time, almost throwing me around the next corner. I glanced back, fighting the urge to let my panic overtake me as I met the excited red eyes of Renald, Orin's tracker.

I almost didn't look ahead of me in time to stop myself from running into yet another vampire, standing in the middle of the sidewalk and looking incredibly annoyed with me. I barely registered his pure white hair and scarred face.

_God, does my reputation proceed me or something?_ I couldn't help thinking with despair. Was he here at Walker's behest too? Where was Garet? Was I going to die already?

Orin, Renald and Trent came around the corner, slowing when they saw I had stopped. Suddenly this stranger was the least of my worries; I knew the goons were out to get me. There was a slight possibility that the white haired man behind me was simply passing through. I tensed and hissed menacingly.

Orin just chuckled. "Ah," he purred, "Gwen. Fancy meeting you here."

I _hated_ the way his tone made me feel filthy and I gathered myself, growling. The stranger shifted his feet at Orin's words and I got the feeling he didn't like them any more than I had. This made me feel a bit better and I started to slowly head toward him. Two was better than one, especially now. Maybe he would help. My panic swelled again. Where was Garet?!

Trent took a deliberate step toward me and looked over my shoulder at the white haired guy who still stood behind me, motionless except his carefully even breathing. "Who's your friend, Gwennie?"

I didn't know how to answer that. I couldn't say 'he's not my friend' because then they'd jump me. What was to guarantee that this stranger wouldn't join in? But what other choice did I have? I couldn't pull him into this unwillingly; that would be unfair. No one else deserved to die like I was about to. Terror overtook the panic and I was suddenly glad I couldn't cry.

Renald took a step as deliberate as Trent's and I couldn't help the whimper that escaped me. I didn't _want_ to die. He laughed, clearly savoring my fear.

Suddenly White Hair snarled, pulling me behind him and moving forward, toward them. I had almost forgotten him and I blinked at his broad back stupidly as my fear drained away, leaving me strangely empty. I took a breath and blinked again stupidly. _He smells good._ Sharp and evergreen.

I was pulled from my weird thoughts by his voice.

"I'm glad you met us here like we planned, Gwen." He put a slight emphasis on 'planned.' I resorted to my usual method of interaction; gaping like a moron. He shifted again, seeming to consider his options as he looked the three in front of him over. He seemed ready to scrap with them if he had to and I couldn't help my sigh of relief as I peeked around his elbow; he was taller than me.

Orin, Renald and Trent seemed to wish they were somewhere else and I made a face at them. Serves them right. _How's it feel, boys?_

I decided to play along. Anything to get rid of them. "Not that I didn't have some problems getting here."

Orin was dumb, but he wasn't suicidal. He straightened and shot a glare to me, waving the other two off. "Be careful, Gwennie," he said dangerously. "Your new friend can't babysit you all the time. Walker will have his due." One more glare my way and he was gone.

I took a deep breath, tasting pine needles and fresh snow on my tongue, and let it out in a big gust. I wanted to shiver and cry and hug this man who had saved my life. I had been certain that they would get me, especially with Garet a big, fat no-show. As I struggled with my inner teenaged girl, I saw the muscles of his back tense.

"Thank you." I tried to keep my voice even; I certainly didn't want to scare this poor guy with my sudden need to bounce off the fucking walls. I studied my shoes, unsure as to how one says thank you to someone who just saved your life. And then I realized that Orin would report to Walker. I had just put this man in danger. "I didn't mean to drag you into this." I couldn't keep my sadness out of my voice. Some thank you this was... 'Thanks for saving my ass. Your reward? A death sentence on your head.' It sure had a ring to it.

I realized he had turned to me, and I looked up, studying his face. The pull was still there, a faint tugging, a whisper in the back of my mind to step closer. I was sure this wasn't any impulse of my own, but I didn't have time to puzzle it out; he was speaking.

"Hey, no worries, eh? At least you didn't run me over. For a second I thought you might." He lifted one corner of his mouth in a cynical smile and I couldn't help grinning in response. A tendril of mouse-brown hair blew into my face and I brushed it back behind my ear, the image of me barreling over him like a cartoon flashing in my mind. That made me laugh.

"Yeah," I agreed intelligently.

Suddenly he froze, muscles locking up. He looked like someone punched him in the gut. I frowned. "Something wrong?" _Something that I did?_

As suddenly as he tensed, he relaxed and shook his head sheepishly. "It's nothing." Another wry half-smile and then, "I'm Abel by the way."

I shook his hand and introduced myself with a half-hearted threat about using my full name. I hated it, but somehow I knew I'd hate it less if he were the one saying it. _God, 15 years as a monster of the night and I'm still a 16 year old girl, aren't I?_

Aware he must be curious about Orin and his gang, I quickly blew off any real details about my pursuers. The less he knew the better. The faster he'd get out of here and out of danger. If Walker was starting to bring people outside his group into this, Garet and I would have to get the hell out of Dodge too.

_God, what about Abigail?_ The thought about my fragile friend made me realize just how long I'd been gone; I left the apartment early this morning and the dim light of an overcast day was starting to darken noticeably. I would have to get home soon.

"Walk with me?" He stared down at me, looking a little stunned, and I amended my request. "We can go to my place."

Ok, let's pause.

Think about how he probably took that for a moment.

Boy meets girl. Boy saves girl. Girl asks boy back to her place. Cue hilarious cartoon stick figures and weird continuous _boinks_.

_Oh god. Oh god. Oh god._

And then let's die of mortification.

"I mean, I have a place around here where we could go. You know, get out of the rather murderous public eye for a bit. Walker's bound to have more than those idiots running around after me." I said it quickly, even as a stray thought - _Not that I would mind you taking that the wrong way if you'll agree... _- crossed my mind.

Jesus fucking Christ, I was a damn teenager again! He didn't help matters _at all_ by sweeping me an elegant half bow and saying in a slightly deeper voice, "Lead the way, madam! I shall follow wherever you wish."

I laughed like a fool and said something inane, grabbing his arm and pulling him in the direction of my apartment. It wouldn't take us too long to get there, maybe 20 minutes.

_Next stop my bedroom._ Oh, I knew he didn't mean it that way, but I could dream right? I mean, I almost got killed. Yes, that's my excuse. I almost got killed. It has nothing to do with the fact that he's completely gorgeous. Nothing at all to do with the fact that his almost-but-not-quite-long-enough-to-be-called-shaggy white hair was a strange turn on or the few scars littering his face made him weirdly more attractive or his body - _mental time out to fan myself, which I think says it all._

Ok, sue me. He's hot.

And I'm taking him home.

Even _if_ it's not exactly to my bedroom.

Yeah, I'm disappointed too.

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**A/N 2: Aww, Gwennie's got the hots for Abel. Bwhahaha. I actually got the inspiration for Abel's looks from the Prophecies version of the male Necromancer. My husband plays a white haired necro, and I gotta say a young guy with white hair is kind of sexy.**


	3. Chwaer

**A/N: Like I said, sometimes I swear my characters sneak in when I'm not looking and write themselves. I struggled for DAYS writing 10 different versions of this chapter before this one just rolled right on out. The plot assembles itself. It's so weird... (Chwaer is Welsh for sister).  
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Vespertine

_Chapter 3:_

_Chwaer_

Abel POV

Luckily, the walk to Gwen's home was uneventful. I wasn't used to so much going on; I came from what was basically the wilderness and if I didn't have the Samlare after me, I wouldn't be anywhere near here. It was a bit unnerving, all these things going on at once, and it scrambled my thought processes. I was used to spending days on end puzzling out a thought; there wasn't very much to do in the middle of nowhere for someone who doesn't sleep. I wasn't used to thinking on my feet.

Gwen was chattering brightly as we walked, telling me about her maker, Garet, who lived with her and Abigail, another vampire who stayed near them, but not with them. This puzzled me in passing until she explained that they lived in an old condemned apartment building, with Garet and her splitting the topmost floor and Abigail taking a section of the first floor.

"Abigail's still very new at this life, and her ability doesn't make it any easier on her. She's a lot like Garet, but stronger. It takes her some time to be able to block out the scenes when she goes to a new place. We actually found her there in the building, near where she lives now, so she prefers to stay there instead of relocating upstairs, even if the place is ridiculously huge."

To tell you the truth, I hadn't been listening to her talk before, so when she mentioned she lived with two talented vampires, it caught my attention. I regretted not keeping an ear tuned into her conversation. I wasn't particularly socially apt, but I knew better than to ask her about Garet's ability when it was obviously something she had spoken about at length.

A portion of my mind was replaying the earlier scene with Gwen, analyzing the powerful compulsion to protect her, to keep her happy. It disturbed me, the fact that before I even knew her name I was ready to defend her life with my own. It was irrational that I could feel that way. I briefly touched on my ability causing the feelings as a way to get my attention and complete the task I had set for it, but that wasn't possible. My ability was set in stone, wasn't it? It had always been demanding, even to the point of causing physical pain when I attempted to ignore it, but manifesting emotions to manipulate me into saving a target was certainly a huge leap for it.

It was absurd, really. Only slightly less absurd than the possibility that I could actually feel this strongly about a girl I had only just met.

I stole a glance at the tiny face of the object of my thoughts as she walked beside me, brown hair falling into her bright red eyes and curling around her finely boned jaw. The edges of her eyes were slightly pinched together and there was a wrinkle between her eyebrows. I hadn't noticed before, but she had a nervous tic; she drew the left corner of her bottom lip into her mouth and grazed her teeth over it several times before releasing it and repeating it with the right side. There were several thin scars there where her sharp teeth had broken the skin and scarring venom had leaked into the cuts.

"Something wrong?" I echoed her words from earlier, trying to keep my tone restrained in an effort to not startle her. She turned her little face to look up at me, and a tight feeling developed in my chest as it occurred to me how fragile the worry made her look. She looked so damn breakable and - once again, irrationally - that stirred up those emotions. She stopped gnawing on her lips for a moment and tilted her head to the right, at the same time tucking a corner of her mouth into a thoughtful frown.

"I don't know. I don't smell Garet. He should be home by now."

We had reached the crumbling concrete steps of a three story apartment building and were standing in front of them. Gwen scuffed the worn toe of her shoe against the sidewalk, looking up at the nighttime sky and frowned again. I leaned against the rusted railing patiently, watching her and letting my thoughts take over again, endlessly going over the scene; analyzing, examining.

Ten minutes of still silence passed before she suddenly moved, turning around in a blindingly fast movement and pouncing into the shadows with a bubbling laugh. I instinctively tensed, prepared for danger before I realized there was no alarm in her movements, just playfulness. Gwen had someone pinned to the ground and was enthusiastically hugging them, her delighted chuckle echoed by a man's voice. My eyes easily saw through the veiling shadows and I relaxed, watching them curiously.

After a moment or two, Gwen got to her feet and helped her 'victim' up and then gave him a huge hug and another giggle. He returned her hug with obvious familiarity. She turned back in my direction and looked startled as she caught sight of me still leaning against the railing, like she had forgotten I was there.

"Oh!" She looked rather amusing, stunned like that and I grinned. "Garet, this is Abel. He saved me from Orin today." She grimaced, walking over to me, Garet following her. The smell of warmth and citrus trailed him, a sharp note over the lilac smell of Gwen.

He was a stocky man, shorter and wider than me, dark curly hair topping a broad face with blunted features. He might have looked kind, if not for his bright red eyes. He stopped a few feet away and looked me over critically before asking, "Saved you from Orin?" He had a faint lilt to his words, a trace of an accent that went well with his calm voice. He radiated control and self assurance and I smiled a little at how well he must balance out Gwen's obviously impulsive nature.

Gwen took a deep breath and let it out, gnawing on her lip again. "Walker's recruited them." Her voice was quiet now, oddly meek, and she refused to meet his eye. She resumed chewing on her lip, the faint rasp of her teeth filling the brief silence.

He didn't react like I expected; he just nodded and looked at her kindly, placing an easy hand on her thin shoulder. "Did you get hurt?"

"No, Abel was able to scare them off." She laughed a little but it sounded forced and a little sad. She folded her hands and fiddled with the cuff of the heavy duty flannel shirt she wore.

Garet nodded again and looked at me steadily again. "Then I thank you for protecting the trouble magnet I call my little sister. You're welcome to stay in our building until you leave town, if you'd like." His voice was polite, but he seemed to have a knowing look about him, like he guessed what I was here for. I wryly wished I had paid attention to Gwen's rambling on his ability. I smiled and nodded back.

"My pleasure. However, if I hadn't stepped in, I'm sure Gwen could have taken care of them herself. She's quite a spitfire," I laughed a little, referring to her little attack on Garet.

Gwen hissed in displeasure as Garet's unexpected laughter boomed down the street, surprising me. Chuckling, he patted her head as she crossed her arms across her chest and stamped her foot, earlier uneasiness forgotten. "That she is, Abel. Come, let's go inside. Abigail is waiting for us. She's excited one of her futures is coming to pass."

My thoughts raced ahead as we entered the building, going down a long hall to the back of the building and turning left. 'Futures come to pass'? Did that mean they were prescient? That would explain why Garet seemed to know I was here to take Gwen away...

We ended up in a large airy apartment, the dim light of the cloud covered setting sun spilling in from large windows on the west wall. Shabby furniture filled the space and there were books everywhere; laying on the few tables, heaped in an armchair that looked about to fall apart and in large teetering stacks on the floor. I was impressed; I had taken them for ferals. I had never seen such a setup before; my own home was a ramshackle cabin set in my 400 square mile range.

A tiny blonde woman, perhaps in her late 30's, sat on one of the large sofas facing the windows, reading a large book. She looked up as we entered, bright red eyes delighted, and jumped up, springing upon Garet much like Gwen had.

"Garet, do you see? I told you it's be the one to come true! I told you!" Her voice was high and light, matching the airy flowery smell that permeated the apartment. Garet laughed his deep laugh and got to his feet as who I assumed to be Abigail danced around him like a child, chortling and clapping her hands delightedly. Gwen laughed too, reaching out casually and grabbing my hand, pulling me farther into the room.

I clenched my jaw and tried not to stiffen at the sudden contact; I was afraid of any other irrational emotional surges while around her. Thankfully, whatever it was kept silent as Gwen almost dragged me over to Abigail. The blonde inspected me critically, mimicking Garet's earlier moves, even going as far as to circle me.

"Hmm," she hummed in thought. "It wasn't exact, but most of it's there. This scar here, see?" She pointed to my left hand, where a long scar began, running up beneath the sleeve of my long sleeved shirt. I had earned that one early in my vampire life, from a nasty little bastard somewhere in Arizona. "I saw that clearly when he was..." She trailed off and tilted her head to stare at me thoughtfully and then grinned. "Yup! He's the one!"

Garet smiled in response, but it was sad. "So this means we're leaving." He sighed, running his big hands through his hair and looking around.

Gwen frowned at her shoes, pouting a little. "I liked it here."

Confused, I just stared at them. Abigail laughed. "Your friend is confused. Maybe you should explain." She giggled and bounced away, into another room and I could hear her gathering things together; packing.

Garet smiled ruefully. "I suppose we should. Gwen might've told you some, but you deserve to hear it all." _Good, because I wasn't listening to Gwen before._ "You've heard mention of a man named Walker?" I nodded. "He and I were created by the same man, a very kind and generous man. He made us promise not to harm one another, which we did willingly. One day, Walker's mate killed my own, and so I took revenge. Thus, Walker has vowed to kill me without actually touching me; he wants to use my attachment to Gwen against me."

Gwen made a face, sorry she was so much trouble to Garet, who she obviously adored. Garet patted her shoulder reassuringly and continued. "Gwen is the only one of our kind that I've ever created, and she's very like a little sister I used to have. It would hurt me deeply to see her come to harm." He stared at me steadily. "You've shown yourself capable of protecting her from the small dangers of Great Falls, but Abigail has seen something more to come, something larger that you need Gwen for. She can only see as far as the object she holds goes, and when the object is discarded, her sight runs out.

"I chose to have her read something Gwen would never discard; a gift I gave her. She saw much, a good portion she won't tell anyone, but she did see a white haired man taking our Gwen away." The breath left me temporarily. He knew I was going to be taking her and using her for my own selfish purposes with the Samlare and he was still willing to let her go with me? How _much_ did he know? _Probably more than me,_ I thought wryly. I only knew that she could help me; I didn't know how.

He sat down on the couch Abigail had just vacated and Gwen dropped my hand to go sit beside him, her face downcast and eyes trained on her lap. "She won't tell us why you need Gwen, or what will happen but she has reassured us that Gwen won't come to harm as long as the necklace is with her." For some reason, this made me feel less guilty about stealing her away.

Abigail came waltzing back into the room, singing to herself in a voice that was as light as her speaking voice. She began picking through the many books scattered everywhere. "Garet, which ones do you want me to save? We obviously have to take all of the first editions - can't have those stolen by the locals. Do you want me to pack the Pratchetts?"

Gwen came out of her depression enough to reply to the question. "Don't forget any of the books on Catholicism. I haven't finished with them." She scowled at Garet's amused look; this was apparently a subject that had teasing associated with it. "Just because _you_ don't find religion interesting doesn't mean it's strange for others to. Hmph."

Garet chuckled. "Yes, Abigail, please save the Pratchett books." He sat up suddenly, staring at Abigail, who was currently behind me. Her singing had stopped, and I turned to see her frozen in place, staring at the book in her hands with unfocused horror.

"Abigail!" Gwen's voice was panicked, and she jumped up, sprinting over.

"Fire," Abigail breathed, starting to tremble. "So much fire."

"Gwendolyn," Garet said sharply; an order. Gwen stiffened and looked at her maker. "Pack a bag for each of us and get Abigail's things. We have to leave _now._" She nodded and sprinted away, a blur of red flannel and brown hair.

Throughout all of this I was a silent spectator, watching it all play out but not involved. Garet took three steps and was at my side, gripping my left arm. "I don't know you, but I can see you're a good man, as good as one of us can be. Please take care of Gwen; she can be rash and childish but she has a good heart and she needs you as much as you need her now that I can't be there. Something is coming, very fast and very dangerous, and I can't go with you two; not with Abigail." I nodded, not knowing what else to do; he looked so torn and unsure.

Gwen came running back into the room, two backpacks in each hand and one slung over her shoulder. She threw one at Garet, who caught it easily and set the other down beside the ragged couch before going to Abigail and shaking her gently.

"Abby-love," she made the endearment sound like one word, "you need to go now. Wake up."

Abigail dropped the book and woke with a start, twisting around in confusion. "No fire," she said in relief, sinking to the floor and rubbing her hands up and down her arms, scrutinizing them for any trace of her vision. Gwen soothingly rubbed the woman's back and looked at Garet with a mixture of expectancy and dread.

"No," Garet agreed, broad face grave. "But it's coming. We need to go." He picked up the backpack from the floor, shouldered the one in his hands and moved to where the women were. He handed the backpack to Abigail, who easily slung it over her thin shoulder, and placed both hands on either of Gwen's shoulders. He looked at her with a terrible jumble of emotions, pride and sorrow winning out over the others, and then gently kissed her on the forehead. "Fair travels, bach chwaer. Hopefully your books are right and there's another life beyond this one if I don't see you again in this one."

Gwen laughed, which sounded strangely like a sob, and threw her arms around the burly man. They stood like that for a moment before she broke away and then the other two members of her coven were gone in the blink of an eye, the only clue they'd ever lived here the tattered castoffs from other people's lives. We stood in the empty apartment like that for an endless moment, her back turned to me and shoulders shaking with silent, tearless sobs and me staring at her back like a fool battling with a sudden reappearance of the irritatingly compelling emotions; this time they prodded me to comfort her. My hands twitched, but I firmly kept them at my side; I had no business touching Gwen at this moment.

A sharp stab, not unlike that of my ability, sent an icy spike somewhere through my chest and my hands balled into fists.

_I don't know what to do; I didn't ask for any of this!_ I wanted to shout.

Luckily, I was saved the trouble. The east wall, the one opposite the windows, exploded.


	4. Home

**A/N: This chapter sat forever on my flash drive but I just couldn't bring myself to work on it. I just didn't know how I wanted Gwen to turn out and this is the start of a turning point in her personaltiy. I finally decided and so I started typing.**

**The songs that helped set this chapter's mood:**

**Sound the Bugle - Bryan Adams**

**You Found Me - The Fray**

**For Heaven's Sake - Thriving Ivory**

**and the entire 14 Shades of Grey album by Staind**

Vespertine

_Chapter 4:_

_Home_

Gwen POV

I remember the first few moments of my new life, crystal clear as the if they were just a few moments ago and not 15 years. It was the night of my 16th birthday, my sweet sixteen, and it was bitterly cold in Denver. I had just gotten into a fight with my mother over me wanting to skip the cheesy family party and go out with my friends and she had told me in no uncertain terms that all my childish stunts and my ungrateful attitude weren't welcome in her home. Like the spoiled brat I was I packed a bag and got out, walking aimlessly - anywhere away from my mother and her unwanted concern and stupid rules.

It was the last time I ever saw my mother.

I don't even remember what I was thinking then; the memories are blurred and tattered around the edges, like an old photograph. I didn't have a plan, I didn't know where I was going to go. I just wanted to get out, get away and be the adult I knew I could be. Teenaged wishful thinking.

Garet probably stalked me for several blocks, at least. My human self didn't notice anything, and Garet refuses to discuss my transformation; he adores me, I know, but I also know he regrets taking my life away from me. He will always mourn the person I could have been in his own quiet way. I dimly remember being scared of the stocky man with the menacing eyes, and trying to run. And then, pain. There are no words to describe the feeling of death; terrible, terrible pain suffocating you, pulling you under as you feel your life leave, draining at the teeth of a predator.

What Garet will tell me is that he saw something that night. Something in the look in my eyes and the way I struggled against his stone grasp that made him stop before I died. He had an epiphany that night, I think; he saw a just-turned-16-year-old girl dying at his hand, and instead of my brown hair and brown eyes he saw freckles and green eyes, long braided red hair and a gap-toothed smile.

I don't remember anything after that for a long, long while. I struggled in the sea of agony, every second seeming years. When I surfaced, I was alone and scared. Scared of my surroundings, scared of not knowing what happened and terrified of my new self. And then Garet was there, no longer a thing of nightmares, not something to be scared of, but suddenly the center of my world; teaching me everything I needed and being there to rein in the terrifying extremes of my nature. My first hunt taught me that he was the wiser of us, and although not the stronger - not then - he was the one to defer to. He guided me, steering me away from a reckless death and putting me on the path to some semblance of control. Thanks to him, I learned to monitor my raging hunger, learn my limits. He showed me how to choose my victims and mask my kills and above all he showed me I could still be someone resembling my human self. He showed me I could still be Gwendolyn Evelyn Matthews and not just some mindless thing of evil driven by baser instincts.

And now he was gone.

The past 15 years of my life, I'd never spent more than hours apart from my creator. I knew myself well enough to realize that my control was flimsy and I was impulsive. Garet was my safety net, always patiently hovering over me and keeping me in check. He was the one thing standing between me and It - the part of my nature that begged for the deaths and delighted in the fear. I hated that part of myself, and I relied on Garet to keep me from giving in.

And yet, he was gone.

I stood in Abigail's ramshackle living room surrounded by all the little familiarities that made up what my life was - the musty smell of the old books scattered everywhere, dust motes spinning like snowflakes in the dimly lit warm air, the old couch where I spent days straight reading, the kitchen-art studio where Abigail did watercolors - and wished I could cry. For the woman I could have been, for my mother who could be dead thinking I was murdered because she threw me out, for Garet's red headed love. For all the people who died so that I could continue living my charade of a life.

For the first time all day, I felt the telltale searing of my mouth and throat that signaled my stress and the hunger that followed it.

Abel shifted uncomfortably behind me and I tried to pull myself together. We needed to go. Abigail had seen something bad, something involving the book on fire. Visions like that rarely gripped her so violently. They were usually hazy, faint and apt to change and sometimes they never came to pass. That meant whatever was going to cause the fire was probably close, and coming closer. Memories of Abigail gripped by her vision and the way Garet left so quickly - like there was something coming that was to be avoided - broke through the despair and I was somewhat successful in gathering myself together. Living with talents that gave peeks into the future had its perks.

I closed my eyes and drank in the feeling of this place one last time. I knew without a doubt I'd never be back, and that hurt.

I was concentrating on my surroundings so intently that I heard it a fraction of a second before it happened; a faint rustle, like bird wings. The wall of what was supposed to be the apartment's dining room shattered into little more than matchsticks and I spun, gripped by the instincts of the predator I was. My body moved on auto-pilot, a snarl bubbling in my throat and I shot forward to meet this threat that _dared_ to step on the territory Garet, Abigail and I had claimed. Without thought, I was suddenly running past Abel and toward the now gaping hole in the wall. I could suddenly _smell _them and that fueled the rage. Gone was the pain of being alone, gone was my thirst. Suddenly I was just _mad_ - how dare they come here?! - and now I had something to take it out on.

I heard faintly Abel swear through the red tide that filled my head and was caught about the waist by him as I passed, the force of my spring tumbling us forward. But he was fast on his feet and he hauled me up by main strength and suddenly we were through the lovely windows that Abigail had coveted and into an abandoned alleyway in a shower of broken glass. I kept to my feet only by the automatic adjustments of my brain; the abrupt absence of the anger left me feeling disoriented. Abel's arms left me and grabbed my wrist in a grip that would've crushed the bones of a human, pulling me along in a fast sprint that took us down the westward alley and away from my home.

I looked over my shoulder, even though I know I shouldn't. The tableau was taken in in one quick glance; a large group of our kind spilled through the ragged hole in the wall - a thought darted across my mind ((_probably made by a talent_)) - and they were starting to follow us, murder written on their faces and I felt the now-familiar ton of ice that was terror weighing heavily somewhere near my stomach as I saw him - Walker - staring after us in a rage, a blond man in neatly tailored clothing standing behind him, arms crossed calmly across his chest and his red eyes shining through his darkly tinted glasses.

And then, Abel pulled me around a corner and they were out of sight.

"Gwen." His voice was hard, but not at all strained by the pace he set. "We need to get out of here. Those... people are not to be messed with. We need help. Where can we go?"

I stumbled; he was faster than I was and with the speed we were going and the sudden turns he took overrode even my grace. My mind was a jumble of chaos; what just happened, who was that guy with Walker and what did he want, why would Walker risk such an all-out offense even at night, where was home now? Home...

Abel's sharp, demanding voice cut into my growing panic. "Gwen!" And he sounded like Garet just then and a tearless sob caught in my throat, reminding me of the thirst that still needed quenching and I sobbed again. We stopped abruptly and I stumbled again, falling to my knees as he let go. I couldn't imagine what I looked like then - shaking with grief and rage and confusion, and on my knees at the feet of a man I had met not a few hours before. My life, or what little I had of it, had fallen to pieces before my very eyes. My maker was gone, my home invaded and stolen from me and the man I had only an hour ago thought of as nothing more than a possible tryst was the only thing I had left that I even thought I could trust.

"Gwendolyn," I heard. He sighed it and it sounded sad. Suddenly he was beside me on the street - which I knew should feel hard and cold to me, but didn't - and his arms were around me. "Gwen," he said again and I realized I had been speaking out loud between the dry, almost painful cries. He didn't say it - "It'll be alright." - because he knew it probably wouldn't be. I shook my head and said the first thing that came to mind.

"I want to go home."

He shifted beside me, arms falling away from me. I almost whined at the loss. "We can't go back there, love. The Samlare-"

I shook my head, harder. "No, that's not home anymore." _Was it ever really home?_

He shifted again. "Where is home, Gwen?" He asked quietly.

I took a deep, unnecessary breath and let it out, not sure what to say.

Home was the first new snowfall of winter, Denver's streets slick and perfect for Sneaker Skating with the neighborhood kids. Home was my mother's house, painted a ridiculous pink, with ivy and honeysuckle growing wild over an old stone fence and mums growing in neat rows against the house and down the walk. Home was the smell of homemade cherry turnovers and mock fights with my little brother and splitting the last piece of cake - and giving him the bigger piece - because I really did love him.

Home didn't exist anymore, in any form. But Great Falls was no longer safe, and what other place did I know?

I worked up the nerve to open my eyes and turn to look at him, an answer at the ready, but said answer caught in my now blazing throat and my mouth almost fell open as I took him in.

Abel was indeed sitting on the ground with me, head turned toward me, legs loosely pulled up to his chest and splayed slightly with his elbows resting on his knees. His white hair was falling into his eyes - black, so he would need to kill as well soon - and he looked at me steadily with a mixture of concern, sadness and an aching knowing.

If he had looked attractive before, he was now beyond gorgeous.

I couldn't explain it, even if I wanted to, but that look on his face - the one that said he cared for my wellbeing - made him so much more... attractive. I swallowed the urge to blurt out something embarrassing - like "I love you" - and dropped my eyes to the ground. We were sitting on the step of someone's apartment building, in a populated area of town and a nasty feeling squeezed my chest. I turned to him again, panicked, and he cut off my question before I could even open my mouth.

"No one saw us, Gwen. I made sure of it." Abel now looked amused and I bristled, a mood swing to rival that of a newly-created vampire suddenly in effect. I beyond pissed at him now, for brushing off my valid concern so easily; I huffed and turned away from him childishly, getting to my feet and stalking away angrily.

A faint rustle of cloth and suddenly he was there, keeping pace with me easily. "I'm sorry, Gwen. I didn't mean it like that. It's just that I wouldn't have stopped if I thought someone might've seen us. Please don't be mad."

His tone was pained and I stopped, looking up at him warily, not sure if I wanted to be appeased. I wasn't sure if he was telling the truth. He _looked_ like he was, but... "Fine," I said abruptly.

"Good," he said with a smile. "Now, where are we headed? I suggest we don't stay here long. If the Samlare are here, that means we have to be on the move."

_Samlare? _I made a note to ask him about that, after more immediate problems were taken care of. I turned to the southeast unerringly, an invisible beacon calling me. "Denver."

He nodded. "Denver it is. However, I suggest we dine before we travel. I'm not sure about you, but I haven't hunted for quite some time and I could certainly use it."

I made a face; I had forgotten for a moment. But now that he mentioned it I was in the stage of near crippling pain that preceded one of my 'mistakes'. I would need to hunt soon, and all the better if Abel were there. I didn't know how he hunted, but he was bound to have enough restraint to keep an eye on me. But I'd have to tell him.

"Um, Abel?"

"Hmm?"

I gnawed on my lip furiously. "Um... We could hunt. But, I need to ask you a favor."

He nodded. "Anything you need."

I bit down too hard on my lip at that and winced as my venom stung the cut. To cover up my embarrassment, I said it all in a rush. "Well, I'm not exactly the most... in control... person when I hunt. I guess you could say I need a babysitter. I tend to get a little... over-enthusiastic." Those were Abigail's words. I looked up, expecting a whole range of emotions - disgust, pity, anger, confusion. I wasn't expecting what he gave.

"Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on you. You could say your creator warned me of something like this." He winked as me and walked away, slow enough I could catch up after I snapped out of my surprise and relief. We walked more or less side-by-side, but he followed my lead. Garet, Abigail and I hunted in different spots around the city, never in the same place and never near the center of town. The outskirts and suburbs were safer for us, it was much more likely for animal attacks to occur closer to the wide open spaces. Sometimes we ranged farther outwards, to towns several hundred miles away. Walker wasn't so careful with his followers, and often stirred up trouble with the amount of murders they created and so we had to be more careful.

But, since we were leaving anyway, it wouldn't matter how much trouble we created, as long as no one figured out what we were. No need to get Them involved.

So, I led Abel to one of the seedier parts of town, where street lights had a tendency to flicker and go out, and no one much cared. There were several bars side-by-side one each of the streets and the rest of the buildings hosted a range of low-level businesses and apartments in worse repair than the place I had been staying. My family stayed away from this place because there was already enough crime here to cause grief.

"I don't know your preference, but we'll have to hunt here if you want to do it in the city."

Abel shrugged. "I don't much care. You learn to not be picky when all you get are lost campers."

I nodded, already mesmerized by the smell of so much _human_ around me. It hadn't been long since I'd last killed, but with everything going on, I was parched. A large man stumbled down the street toward us and I tensed, already growling. Abel laid a heavy hand on my shoulder.

"Gwen... Not out here in the open."

I growled louder, feeling my mouth fill with the sweet-bitter of venom, and my instincts demanded at the top of their lungs for me to strike, God damn it!

I was vaguely aware of Abel saying something, but I was too far gone. My vision narrowed to a tunnel focused on my prey and I took a step forward, then another. And suddenly I was on my target, snapping his neck in one quick movement and latching onto his throat. Blood, warm and wet, slid down my own throat and a sweet warmth spread from my stomach to the rest of me as I greedily drank my fill, the man slowly growing cooler in my grasp.

When I came back to myself, I was embarrassingly aware of Abel standing over me. We were tucked away in a deep doorway of an empty building. He must've hauled us here, because I didn't remember getting up... I dropped the drunkard, and looked up sheepishly, suddenly wishing I could melt into the ground. His expression was a mixture of disapproval and amusement.

He sighed, one hand rubbing the back of his neck and the other propped on his hip. "You weren't kidding when you said you needed looking after. Come on, throw him in there and I'll go get one for me. Do you need another?"

"No," I chewed on my lip. "That one was enough. Go get yours and I'll take care of this one." Desperate to escape the situation, I jumped up and easily moved my victim into the darkened building, taking care to tear out the bite marks and disguise my meal.

When I was done, I went out to the street and sat on the curb half a block away, washing my hands in a puddle and waiting for Abel to finish and return. I knew it should have disturbed me, the way we talked of humans like they were nothing but a meal and not people, but it didn't. After all, they were to us what cows were to them. But for some reason it bothered me that I didn't care, that I couldn't really envision him as a _person_. The man I had killed had family somewhere, waiting for him to come home. And he never would. He could have children who would never see their father, just like my mother would never see me again. He had a _life_ and I had taken it away from him. For what? What was I going to do now? Why had I taken his life to keep my own going? I had no plan, no idea what was in store for me. I didn't know what Abel and I were going to do in the coming days; we were running, but from what? Something that didn't want us too badly, or they could've caught up with us by now.

I brooded on this, dangling my fingers in the dirty water of the puddle at my feet until Abel emerged from the shadows, his eyes now a brilliant red that glowed faintly in the dark.

"Let's go."

I nodded and stood, the uneasy feeling staying with me as I followed Abel out of Great Falls.


	5. Samlare

**A/N**: **Chapter 5 is kind of short, but we _finally_ learn who's chasing Abel. That's something, right? Right? -taps mic- Hello?**

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Vespertine

_Chapter 5:  
_

_ Samlare_

Abel POV:

"Thank you for seeing us, Emmeline." Gwen's usually loud voice held the same subdued, defeated tone I'd heard the entire trip to this godforsaken city. It was worse than Great Falls; dirtier, louder, and much more crowded. If Great Falls was polluted, Denver was diseased. That, coupled with the girl's frustrating mood, put me in a dangerous state, on edge and annoyed and I wasn't willing to play lower class to this pompous bitch staring at us in what I thought was disbelief.

I started having misgivings when we walked into the large office building and straight into the waiting arms of three vampires. Gwendolyn seemed to know the two women and the man, but while they weren't hostile, they also didn't seem to be particularly fond of her. We were herded into an elevator, led through several hallways and left in this richly appointed office for a period of time alone. It was spacious, lined with books and scattered with mismatched but expensive chairs, but obviously carefully constructed to keep us contained; no windows and I got the feeling it was near the middle of the floor plan, padded on several sides with other rooms.

I paced up around the room, feeling like a caged animal while Gwen sat silently in one of the large leather chairs, with hands folded in her lap and eyes unfocused. Eventually, our host decided to show, but by that time I was already done with this whole situation. Samlare or no, I was done with this mess, done following Gwen like a helpless puppy, done with this fleeing at her heels. I would find a way to do this on my own.

Emmeline, a pretty blond a little taller than Gwen, seemed to shake herself before nodding to the girl and sitting down in one of the huge chairs in front of us. "Forgive me my rudeness. I wasn't expecting you without Garet, little one." Gwen didn't even flinch at the stocky Welshman's name, just taking a seat. I remained standing a little behind and to the right of the chair Gwen was in, glaring at Emmeline when she glanced at me curiously, arms crossed defensively across my chest. She didn't even bother to glare back, turning back to Gwen.

"Who's your watchdog, dear?" A hand waved in my direction. "I don't believe Garet has told us of any new additions aside from the lovely little prophet, and I believe that was shortly after you two relocated."

"Abel is just my traveling companion," came her quiet response. "He and I will part ways soon, I think."

So she'd been paying attention to me, had she?

The blonde looked at me closer, perfect ringlets spilling over the shoulder of her tailored silk blouse as she leaned forward. "Well, isn't he a handsome one? I wonder if Cassandra would like a peek at him."

There was a faint little sound that probably meant Gwen was chewing on her lip.

"Emmeline, I need to talk with Mora. If Mora isn't here, then get me Cort. This is important." She looked at me, and I looked back, still frustrated, still upset, but for a different reason this time. Her eyes were deep red, telling of the dead drunk in Great Falls. Behind the despondency, there was a promise. She would help me, just like she said she would during the trip here, after I told her everything I knew about the Samlare.

Emmeline gazed at Gwen steadily, seeming to gather more information than what was contained in the girl's quiet words. After a moment of still silence, she nodded sharply and was gone from the room without a word, blonde ringlets swaying across her back with each step.

I watched her leave, not sad at all to see her go. The entire time she spoke to Gwen her voice implied we were barely worth her time. Isolated as I had been for a long time, it wasn't often I got to interact with people aside from the occasional human wandering off the trails and the rare interloper. That made me anxious and abrupt in the face of people who frustrated me, and Emmeline just rubbed me the wrong way to begin with. I didn't notice I had started to pace until the door opened and I stopped, barely avoiding running into the newcomer.

A woman shorter than Gwen was standing in front of me, with dark short hair mussed and dressed in a t-shirt and jeans. She held a wooden baseball bat, tip down, loosely in her hand. I jumped back, closer to Gwen, but she just looked at me steadily, faintly amused, and set the bat down against one of the book cases to the left of the door way.

"It's nice to see you again, Gwendolyn."

Gwen stood and faced her, smiling a real smile for the first time since we left Great Falls. "It's good to see you, too, Mora. I'm sorry to drop in on you like this, but our situation is a little…" she glanced at me. "Desperate."

The newly identified Mora nodded understandingly, sitting in the same chair Emmeline sat in not 10 minutes before. I took up my post as Gwen sat back down, rubbing a hand over her face tiredly.

"Now," Mora started, leaning forward and linking her fingers together, "what can I help you with? And may I ask where Garet is? You've never been here without him."

Gwen sighed. "Garet is… gone. He took Abigail and ran, for lack of a better word. It's all part of my – our – problem. Our home in Great Falls is gone, invaded and probably destroyed. We have a group of thugs after us. Do you know about Walker? Ok, good. Well, my friend Abel here has his own form of Walker, only on a much bigger scale. They're called the…" Here she looked to me and I said my first words of the night.

"They are called the Samlare. They are-"

"Collectors," Mora finished for me in a grave tone. She sighed. "Yes, I know of them." She smiled at my sound of disbelief. "They once hunted my mate. We made a deal with them, and they've sworn not to attempt to collect him every again. Oh yes, I know of them."

Gwen looked interested now, depression seeming to lift. "What do you know, Mora? I've heard a little from Abel, but I'd like to know more. Why do they want to capture us?"

"Like I said, they are collectors. As far as I can tell, there aren't very many of them, but they are quietly powerful. They work with the Volturi, to ensure they won't be bothered by anyone. We had to work directly with the Guard to even attempt to make the deal." She shivered at the memory. Gwen looked awed and more than a little scared at the thought.

"They work for the super-rich, those people who have so much money they've done or own everything else. Some people collect art. Some people collect stamps or coins. Some collect vampires. Usually only those with a power are targeted; the Samlare features some of the best trackers the world has seen. A client orders them to hunt for something specific, usually a certain power, and the look. They never stop looking. Once they've found you, they overpower you, usuing one of their own people's power; a mind control of sorts. Like Cort's, but more powerful, less command and more like total brainwashing."

She laughed bitterly. "At least you have a chance to resist Cort."

Gwen was gaping, shocked, and I probably had the same look on my face. I thought I knew a lot about the people chasing me, but it turns out Mora knew much, much more.

"Once you're captured, they ship you to their client, the person who bought you. You're ordered to obey every command, and that order sticks with you. It never leaves. You can't fight it… it's like a compulsion. Usually the captures are only put on display, the client's titillating new collectable. But sometimes… sometimes they make you fight."

Gwen made a revolted sound.

"It's like dog fighting." Mora's voice turned hard. "The dog fighting for those tired of the regular kind. The loser is sometimes burned, if he loses badly enough."

I cleared my throat, somehow clogged listening to the bitter, hateful recitation of what the people hunting me would do if they caught me, prepared to ask the question that begged to be answered. Gwen beat me to it.

"How… how do you know?" She asked it in a quiet, pained whisper.

"You know what I am, Gwen." The pragmatic, no-nonsense tone was back. She looked at me. "What did Emmeline call you? Oh yes, the watchdog." She turned her red eyes back to Gwen. "Your watchdog here doesn't, but you do. Do you know how valuable I was? They caught me long before I met Cort. I was lucky; my 'master' was kind, kinder than many of them. I convinced him to set me free, to buy my protection. To the Samlare, I'm still owned; I can't be hunted."

She stopped talking, looking up, and a slow smile graced her face. I turned, resisting the urge to jump backwards when I saw a man standing on the other side of the chair Gwen sat in. It wasn't because he surprised me by being there; I had heard him come in. No, this was for a different reason.

Cortland grinned at me in that annoyingly careless way he had always possessed. "Hello, cousin. How nice to see you here."

* * *

**A/N: Aha! Plot!**


	6. Ninth Circle

Vespertine

_Chapter 5:_

_Ninth Circle_

_Lasciate ogne speranza, voi ch'intrate_

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here

Gwen POV:

There was no relief I'd ever felt in my entire life that matched the feeling when I stepped through the tinted glass doors of Goss Incorporated in the middle of the night, followed by an anxious and dangerous stranger. Something in my chest snapped and eased when I took that first step onto the plush maroon carpet, the same color of my eyes. The color reminded me that a dead man's blood coursed through my body. Guilt weighed down my stomach almost painfully and I felt nauseous.

The lush lobby was familiar in the way of a place not visited for a time – exactly the same, but with a slight feeling of oddness to it. The smell brought back happier memories of a time when I didn't struggle as much with myself, if only because I had someone who hunted for me and brought me my meals virtually guilt free. I shed the bittersweet thoughts as I walked up to Alexander, the only familiar face. Two women flanked him, both of whom I'd never met, each with the faintly strained look of a rehabber and I pointedly ignored them like I remember Garet doing.

Alexander was exactly the same, an unchanging rock in the turmoil of my life. He was young and stocky, his once swarthy skin a sickly pale yellow and hard yellow eyes glaring at my companion, sizing him up. I didn't know his story, but Garet once told me he was with Mora and Cort when they first came to Denver to start what would eventually become Goss Inc. He nodded an acknowledgement to me, confirming that he recognized me and led Abel and I to the elevator I knew was restricted for visitors of our variety. We were going to the Suites, a set of offices and pseudo bedrooms set on the upper floors of the tall building. I had expected this; Mora had never met Garet and me anywhere else. Humans were not allowed up to these rooms and they accepted that. Anyone who attempted to challenge that unspoken rule never came back down; at least not in one piece.

The meeting with Emmeline went as I had expected. She was an old vampire, born to a wealthy, influential family in the 1700's, and often spoke and acted with the imperiousness of her noble birth. Abel didn't seem to like her, but then most people did not and she was fine with that. Mora arriving made the world seem a little more solid and I breathed a sigh of relief because if I knew anything it was that Mora had a solution for almost anything. She was a resourceful woman with contacts and connections, a vast web of information that stretched out into places that I knew nothing of, and it didn't hurt that she was also backed by one of the most powerful of our kind that I knew of - her mate, Cort.

I knew this and I shouldn't have been surprised when Mora knew who was chasing us and how well connected they were, but I was. How could they be working with the Volturi? From the way Mora told it, _humans_ were collecting us, and the Italian bastards would never allow that. The bleak information she laid out for us made my head spin and I was barely aware of Cort joining us. His words to Abel I didn't even register.

Before I could blink, Abel sprang at Cort, snarling like a rabid wolf as he tried to dismember the taller man.

"On the floor!" Cort said, quietly but with an odd echo in his voice and I knew the order was directed at Abel, but I had to fight the urge to slide out of my chair and sit on the floor. This was Cort's talent, and it was a powerful one. Abel fell away from the taller man, hitting the floor with a grunt and the sound of the wooden floor splintering from the force of his fall. I watched anxiously, fighting the double impulses of Cort's command and wanting to help Abel as he struggled.

With a sick feeling in my chest, I watched my companion strain one last time and slump into the depression his fall had made in the floor. I stood, worriedly shifting my eyes between Cort and Abel, ever few seconds glancing appealingly at Mora. I washed my hands together and resisted the urge to whine or squirm or jump forward to defend my friend. It would mean injury or death to challenge their authority in this setting, with no escape. Even Alexander would not dare openly defy this couple.

"You may rise, cousin." Cort said, a laugh dancing at the edge of his voice. Abel rose shakily to his feet, whipping his head sharply to either side to clear the order from his head. He stood, feet planted on the edges of the crater his falling body had made in the gorgeous floor, and glared at the older, taller man.

"I should have known better, you worthless traitor, you son of a whore," Abel growled, vibrating with rage. I trembled in shared tension, a tuning fork to his emotions, although I didn't understand his words. Mora narrowed her eyes and stood as well, a dangerous note entering her body language. She did not want Abel to continue, but I did. I wanted to know what his words meant, why Mora looked so upset.

"Betrayer," my companion hissed, eyes gone black and I whined in confusion and anxiety, sidling around the room to get behind him. Behind him was safe, my instincts whispered, and in front of him was death. "Murderer. Stealer of life and seller of souls." He ignored Mora's shriek of warning. "I understand so much more now that you are involved."

The crunching of the edge of the solid desk echoed in the silence that followed the words and Mora opened her hands, little bits of wood tinkling as they hit the floor. My shaking turned into harsh tremors and I felt like I would tear into pieces as the air thickened with Abel and Mora's anger. Cort made an almost funny figure, leaning casually against the back of an ancient purple wing backed chair, his face serene as he took in the words hurled at him. Mora ground her teeth and glared, and I cowered away.

"And you," Abel said suddenly, turning to her. "You know, I know you do. How could you even stand to be in the same room as him? Are you the same as him? Do you condone his actions?" He spat each word.

She stood up straighter with each sentence. "The young one does not know of what you speak, Constantine, and I would like to keep it that way," she said in a cold, precise tone and I barely noted the name she called him; my mind turned animal, assessing the risks, looking for ways out. "Let her leave and we will discuss your misunderstandings."

"I don't go by that name," he said stiffly, turning his glare to Cort, who shrugged.

I stilled my shaking and widened my eyes. How dare they treat me like a child?! I opened my mouth to protest, but Cort beat me to it.

"Mora, Gwen is as much adult as Alex, and he knows. Don't treat her like a know-nothing fledgling, straight out of the Change." His tone was light, teasing, but there was a warning there too, which made me frown. I felt like a human again, trying to follow the cryptic conversation.

Mora blew out a frustrated breath. Abel snarled. "If you will not say it, then I will. Cortland Roth, you are the lowest of the low, a broker of a death more despicable than anything any other of our kind has or will ever deal. As the Moirae as my witness, I-" He never finished his sentence, because things started to move very fast from that point onward.

Mora roared in anger and sprang. I tackled her out of midair, reacting before my thoughts could talk some sense into my instincts. _She will _not_ harm him!_ a voice in my head howled. We hit the floor hard and struggled, rolling and snapping at each other. She was just faster than I was and I got a mouthful of cloth instead of skin, dusty from the game of baseball Mora had been playing before she came to see us. I spat it out and lunged for her throat. The more experienced Mora quickly gained the upper hand, turning my attack to her advantage and spinning me around. In the blink of an eye, I was on my back on the floor and she was sitting squarely on my chest, pinning me to the floor. I wriggled in her tight grasp, snarling desperately and clawing at the hand that held my throat. Every thought in my mind was focused on one thing, one goal; I had to protect Abel. He was a brother, and she dared to try to hurt him? My rage blinded me, a terrible tide behind my eyes that stained my vision gray and red and twisted my face.

Mora slammed my head into the floor a few times and shouted at me to calm down, but the nature of my mind and self prevented it. I saw a threat to a helpless brother, a very real threat, and every instinct told me to eliminate it. It was some time before I snapped out of it, the anger draining away and leaving me shaken and unnaturally winded. I lay on the floor, Mora's hand still firmly around my neck, and gasped for air I didn't need. The room was silent except for the whistling of the air through my pinched windpipe and I panicked again, struggling to get up and look for Abel. Mora snarled and tightened her grip. I heeded her warning and stilled, and she nodded to my left.

I turned my head slightly to see Cort holding Abel against one of the gorgeously paneled walls, the material splintered and groaning with the force he was exerting to keep the younger man held there.

"Let me down," Abel growled, and his hands were around Cort's wrists much like mine were around Mora's. Cort had both fists pressed to his chest, bunched in the fabric of his t-shirt.

"Will you behave?" Cort looked amused and not at all upset, but I could not relax, the words just a second earlier still hanging in the air.

_Murderer._

_Traitor._

_As the Moirae as my witness, I…_

For a moment, Abel glared at him, death and rage in his red eyes and I resisted the urge to once again struggle against Mora's grip. The tuning fork was back and my emotions started to mirror his.

We were in danger here, so much danger.

I could hear the unspoken words in Cort's affable question; _Will you let this go?_ For a second I thought Abel would speak and Mora did too, because her fingers tightened on my throat and I muffled a squeak of surprised pain as her fingernails just barely slid into my skin. But Abel nodded after several tense seconds and was lowered to the ground. Mora gave me an unreadable stare and then released me as well, getting to her feet and pointedly walking back to her seat, every move her body made telling me to not mention why Cort was a traitor, or what had called for the extreme reaction to the words Abel almost said. Cort grinned at Abel and slapped him on the back good-naturedly.

"No hard feelings I hope, cousin."

My companion ignored him, following Mora's example and returning to his previous position. There was an anxious moment in the room, three on-edge killing machines waiting for the trigger to ignite them and a ridiculously relaxed Cort. I got to my feet slowly as Cort snorted a laugh and moved to stand behind his mate's chair, toying with the ends of her short brown hair. She rolled her eyes at him fondly, the previous scene apparently ancient history to them, but I had not forgot it. Mora had not wanted Abel to say those words, the words that tasted faintly of real Power. I stole glances at him, but Abel ignored both the couple and me, glaring at a point on the far wall.

_Danger,_ a voice at the base of my skull murmured. I balled my hands into fists.

I didn't go back to the overly expensive chair I'd sat in earlier. Instead as the two flirted back and forth, I paced the large room. Too much had happened and I was a rat, carefully ushered through a preplanned maze, rushing to an unknown end. These unexpected developments only served to enhance the sense of arrangement, like carefully drawn flaws in a perfectly done painting to make it seem more real. Who was pulling the strings? Mora and Cort were obviously holding something back, which made Garet's separate escape make a little more sense. But he must've known I would head for Mora when our home was destroyed, so why send me into the lion's mouth alone if there was any danger? Did he know nothing would happen to us? Had he gotten a good measure of Abel, a good enough one to rely on his reactions to be the right ones in a situation like this?

I swallow and it burned. I was thirsty again.

I was wary of Cort's ability, a finger of doubt and fear sliding down my spine. If they were to turn us over to whoever was chasing us, we wouldn't be able to resist with his power.

I knew after that scene that if a double cross would be in the making, it would be soon. But I was filthy from cross-country travel and felt like an over stretched rubber band. I would take the gamble that whatever was going to happen would be a little in the future and stay here for the moment. Where else did I have to go after all?

I paused in my circuit of the large study as I pondered this. I had never not had a home. Even when it was just Garet and me we had the little place under an overpass that we came back to during the day. After we moved north and added frail Abby to our group, we had the apartment building to hole up in that she cheerfully made ours. And it wasn't just me in this mess; I glanced up at Abel who had not moved from his spot. He had closed his eyes, but his body was tense and I sighed noiselessly.

I had felt the shift in feelings that had occurred during our trip – I no longer saw him with the same appreciative eyes I had on the street a short time ago. Now he was a brother in arms, an ally, and I smiled wryly as I let go of the idea that we could be more than that. There was a connection, but it was more familial now, like the way I felt around Garet or Abigail. I wondered if he would stay with us when this was over, if we made it out alive.

_It would've been nice if he were the one, _I wistfully thought. Not that Garet and Abigail didn't keep me company, but at heart I was still a teenaged girl and I still thought of happily every afters and wished, in some deep part of me, for a knight in shining armor. But, I knew that I would never have it that way. The best I could hope for was to live beyond whatever was chasing my friend and, by extension, me.

Emmeline came into the room about an hour later. I was standing across the room from Mora and Cort, who were now going over some of the accounts for the business. Abel was not far away from me, more because I was away from the couple than because he wanted to be near me. I'd had a feeling he was upset with me since we'd left Great Falls and I figured it had more than a little bit to do with my crushing depression at leaving Garet and my home behind. I loved routine and extreme deviations from the comfortable pattern of my day rattled me. Couple that with hunting for myself for the first time in awhile and leaving my family behind, I was a mess of emotions. No one does emo better than a vampire, I suppose.

I was no better now, I reflected. Now I had the added bonus of knowing that we were in the house of people who I was sure would turn us in to whoever Abel wanted to run from so badly. Goss had always represented a safe harbor to me. I had come here a few times at Garet's heels and everyone had been nothing if not welcoming. They gave us news, money and extra blood supplies for when we had to lie low and couldn't hunt for whatever reason. Alex procured clothes for us and Emmeline would give us the best places to hunt away from Mora's territory, which encompassed much of Denver-Aurora. Mora didn't care for those of us who hunted humans, but I wasn't sure why she tolerated Garet and me doing it. She seemed to be fine just ignoring it, so I had never questioned it.

I was pulled from my thoughts by Emmeline, who cleared her throat pointedly and I got the impression she'd done it a few times prior, because she was glaring at me.

"Can it, Ice Queen," Abel growled at her, but she just turned up her nose.

"Down, doggie," she snipped back primly. "Now, if you'll follow me, I'll take you to the usual rooms, Gwen." She pinned me with her stare. "You know the rules, and I hope you'll fill your friend here in on them. I would hate to see him punished."

I nodded and followed her, left with the familiar disconcerted feeling that I should be bone tired. I wasn't, of course, but even 10 years hadn't erased the fact that my brain had spent 16 years learning my body's reactions. It was confusing when my body didn't respond like my brain expected.

We ended up in the section of the restricted building that I was familiar with. Garet and I had often stayed here when he stopped in and we often spent several days. There were two suites, side-by-side and each was equipped with a sitting room, bedroom and large bathroom. I sighed in contentment at the thought of a bath.

_If I'm going to be chased across the US, at least I can be clean, _I thought wryly. Emmeline left us standing in front of the rooms without a word and I listened to her go, heels clicking purposefully on the marble floor. I scuffed the ragged toe of my shoe on the ground, the pale glint of my skin shoeing through a rather large hole. I was dressed in ragged jeans and a t-shirt four sizes too big for me and I could almost imagine it was Garet next to me and we would be heading back to the overpass in the morning. But Abel wouldn't let me hold onto the soap bubble for long – he huffed and asked, "Which one is mine?"

I sighed. "The one on the right is the one Garet usually takes. You can have that one." He nodded and reached for the door.

_Bath_, I thought longingly. But no, there was something that needed to be said first. "First," I said, and he paused, "we need to talk about the rules Emmeline mentioned." The dangerously impatient look was back and I steeled myself for his temper. "Mora has only a couple of them, to ensure such a large gathering of us goes unnoticed in such a human part of town. It's more for us than her."

He muttered sarcastically, "I'm sure." I wondered what it was that Cort had done to get such a reaction out of him.

"First, no hunting. Garet had special permissions, but I'm sure that has been taken away and besides he's not here with us. They supply packaged blood culled from the many blood banks the company operates. It may not be fresh, but it's better than going up into the mountains and catching something furry." I'd tried that and it was terrible. "Second, no going out during the day, even on overcast days. The weather had a tendency to be fickle here and a rainy day can quickly become sunny. Usually this is waived during the winter since it snows a lot, but we'll be watched closely, so it's best to obey. Third, don't mess with the rehabbers. They're here to learn to live without hunting humans, and Mora doesn't want them distracted. Besides, they can be nasty to tangle with. We should meet any of them, since they're housed in the basements, but you never know. Last, avoid Cassandra. You'll know her if you meet her."

Mora was very protective of Cassandra, the latest addition to the permanent residents of Goss Inc. The girl had been the plaything of a group of our kind and it was pure luck Mora had been passing by or she probably would've been their toy for the rest of her long, long existence. She remembered little of the time before Mora rescued her, or so Garet told me. I had only met her once and I would always remember the haunted looking girl carefully tending to the sunken flowerbeds Mora had installed specifically for her to work on. I didn't think Abel would do well to cross Mora again and Cassandra was a surefire way to get right to her bad side.

"That's it," I said, turning to my own door and dashing inside before he could ask me any questions.

_Bath, bath, bath. _My mind chanted. _Clean, clean clean._

I passed a mirror in the entrance way and caught sight of my eyes. Suddenly I was disgusted, one hand scrubbing up and down my arm unconsciously.

Oh, to be clean; well and truly clean.

* * *

**A/N: In part one of Dante Alighieri's _Divine Comedy_, commonly referred to as Dante's Inferno, the Ninth Circle of Hell is reserved for betrayers.**


End file.
